


Puzzlebox

by Euphorion



Category: Ocean's (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Outdoor Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euphorion/pseuds/Euphorion
Summary: Lou came to think of her brain like a mahogany puzzle box, one of those ones that changed shape as you solved it, intricate wooden pieces shifting smooth and shining, revealing inner chambers that ended up not being inner at all, just the same outer pieces seen from a different angle. She’d never seen inside, not really. Even the few times she’d convinced herself she had.+Just a small scene right after the heist itself ends, before the insurance stuff starts going down.





	Puzzlebox

Debbie Ocean kept things close to her chest. It was part of her charm—it had been since Lou had first met her, scamming pool in a roadside Texas bar with one of her cousins—Jack or Jake or something. She’d had this look in her eyes, even then, dark and calculating and impossible to read the way no one in the world actually was. No matter how many men might describe themselves privately as  _ inscrutable,  _ no one Lou had ever met had come close to that first look they’d exchanged over the top of Deb’s definitely-illegal drink.

Lou came to think of her brain like a mahogany puzzle box, one of those ones that changed shape as you solved it, intricate wooden pieces shifting smooth and shining, revealing inner chambers that ended up not being  _ inner  _ at all, just the same outer pieces seen from a different angle. She’d never seen inside, not really. Even the few times she’d convinced herself she had. 

Even now. Even now, in the alley a few blocks from the Met, when Deb had her backed up against a wall, her dress half off her shoulders and her whole face alight with victory and want and what Lou in her weakest moments might call love, when Deb wasn’t keeping anything close to her chest, and was keeping it, instead, close to Lou’s.

“It’s a necklace,” she murmured as Deb ran her fingers down the diamonds between her breasts, then lower, down the instantly-goosebumped skin of her stomach. She didn’t say,  _ you promised me a ring,  _ because Debbie hadn’t. She didn’t say  _ I was hoping for one  _ either.

“Sure,” said Deb, slipping her hand between the fabric of the jumpsuit and Lou’s skin, slow, running her thumb almost absent-mindedly over Lou’s nipple. “This one is. But you got the other diamonds, right?”

It wasn’t a question. It was also, infuriatingly, not an answer.

Lou reached out with both hands to cup her jaw, pulling her in to kiss her hard, and Deb smirked into it. Lou bit her, kissing her sloppy just to mess up her lipstick. Just to make her look—messy, human, unplanned—and Deb hummed, a pleased, approving sound that told Lou that she’d failed at least at the last one.

Deb pulled back, both hands on Lou’s breasts, now, cupping them in her palms, and then she was pushing the fabric back from her shoulders and tugging it down and off her arms, so Lou was topless in the night air, and took a tiny breath and an even tinier step backward.

Lou watched her eyes.

_ He put me in prison. You have no idea what that’s like. _

Lou didn’t. It scared the shit out of her to even try. It was why she defaulted to small shit when Deb was out of the picture, because she knew what she was doing, but one woman—even a woman as fuck-off competent as she knew herself to be—can’t watch her own back the way you can with a partner. It was the rhythm of her life, periods of high-stakes partnership and low-stakes solitude, Deb picking her up and dropping her off again at her leisure. Sure, sometimes it was the other way around. But usually it was calm seas until Ocean caught her eye and then, bam, it was hurricane season.

She didn’t know how she’d react to being in prison, but she was pretty certain she wouldn’t handle it like this. She’d be, god, touch-starved, or touch-shy, one of the two, not as smooth and possessed as she’d ever been, not able to go to her knees like no time at all had passed between the last time they’d done this eight goddamn years ago and tonight, like they hadn’t just pulled off the most successful job of either of their lives.

Lou’d had no idea what seeing her again would be like. She’d had no idea whether they’d pick up where they left off, and if so which part they’d pick up—the bingo games? the fights? the stupid dangerous art dealers?—and she’d gotten almost no hints in the three weeks it had taken to get everyone together and prepare. Looks. A few aborted conversations, even more glancing  and indirect than usual. Deb had been sitting pretty inside that mahogany box giving her nothing at all. 

But now, as she tugged Lou’s jumpsuit and underwear down her hips and slid her warm, calloused palms up Lou’s thighs, Lou could feel a slight but unmistakable tremble in her fingers, a kind of relief in the hot breath against her stomach. She buried her hands in Debbie’s hair, tugging, appreciative, and wondered if this was a reward. If being here, giving Lou this, giving herself this, was the first inch Deb had allowed herself to relax since getting out.

She pulled harder, experimental, demanding, and Deb immediately, obediently changed her angle, like she’d been waiting, like she thought Lou might not  _ want  _ this. She pressed a sucking kiss to the inside of Lou’s thigh, her hands tightening, and then with no warning at all licked upward and into her, parting her folds with her tongue.

Lou sucked in a breath, letting her head fall backward against the wall behind her. The wind slid over her skin, her nipples so hard they ached, and Deb shifted a hand to pull her folds open and lick deeper into her, her tongue flickering and enthusiastic and  _ knowing,  _ her mouth a wet soft heat that was suddenly the center of Lou’s entire world.

“God,” Lou breathed as Deb slowed, flattening her tongue and licking slow up her folds and even slower over her clit.  _ “Fuck. _ ” Her hands shifted over Deb’s face and hair without her really even directing them, touching the curve of her ear, her brows, the corner of her jaw, just. Affirming she was real, she was  _ her,  _ this was real, this was  _ them.  _

The diamonds hung heavy and cool against her chest. This was real. This was them. They did this. They  _ fucking  _ did this.

Deb thrust her tongue back into her and Lou grabbed her head, pulling her closer, grinding against her mouth. “You’re incredible,” she said, but it came out more a moan, the breath between words a pant. “You’re a genius, you’re a madwoman, you’re  _ fucking _ magnificent.”

She craned her neck down so she could look at Deb’s face, her whole body tensed and trembling, an arched bow balanced between cold stone at her back and Deb’s mouth, and as if she could feel Lou’s gaze Deb looked up at her, clever lying genius tongue flickering over her clit, and her eyes were warm and open and needy and grateful and Lou slammed the heel of her hand against the wall at her side hard enough to bruise, her mouth opening ragged and soundless as orgasm crashed over her.

Deb pressed open-mouth kisses up her stomach as she stood, each press of her mouth making Lou twitch. Lou licked into her mouth as soon as she was within range and was rewarded with the hitch of her breath, the jerk of her hips against the hands she settled automatically at Deb’s waist. 

“It’s not fucking fair how good you are at that,” Lou muttered against her mouth, and finally opened her eyes.

Deb was smirking, but her gaze was elsewhere, shifted away to the mouth of the alley. “From what I remember you’re not too shabby yourself.”

Lou caught her chin, running a thumb along her lip to smear her lipstick even more. “I’d be glad to remind you.”

Debbie nodded, but tugged at her jumpsuit, gesturing for her to put it on. “At home,” she said. “We’ve been here too long as it is.”

She fixed the shoulders of her dress, waiting while Lou pulled her jumpsuit back up. Her eyes were still dark with want, but whatever glimpse Lou had gotten of—whatever it even had been was over. She wondered if in a few months she would even believe it had happened.

Still.

Still, thirty-six million dollars.

Thirty-six million dollars, and Deb had said  _ home. _


End file.
